Peculiar Friends
by newdarlin
Summary: ‘What do you mean more? She said she didn’t know. She lied.’ - post 6x16, how a night in a bar can change it all.


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**

A bored class on french History, my mind missing darvey and a post on twitter lead to this fic.

**

**Need to say I'm super super super anxious and insecure about this one, I hope you'll enjoy.**

**Also, this is my very first attempt at writting smut and M rated content, so please be kind with me.**

**This fic is also unbeta-ed, so sorry in advance for any mistake you'll find.**

**Huge thanks to the people who encouraged me and helped me on this, you know who you are, I don't deserve you and love you very much.**

**Good reading, Fran.**

Peculiar Friends:

_What do you mean more?_

She said she didn't know.

She lied.

She lied to protect him, to protect them. Once again, she puts herself lower than earth in order to keep him from _feeling something_.

She doesn't have to figure shit; she deeply knows what she means by more.

She means him, them. She means hitting replay of 'The Other Time', she means, sharing more than a work relationship, she means more than being best friends.

She means having the same heart and the same soul, the same house and the same name.

She means _everything_.

Everything she ever dreamt of and everything she never said out loud.

But he wasn't ready when she wanted to tell him, and now that he might be, she's not sure she should.

Because they work, their relationship, as blurry and flirty as it can be, it works. They are Donna and Harvey, the best lawyer and the best secretary of all New York City. They are this incredible duo, knowing everything there is to know about each other - except how they feel about each other.

And despite all the dark spots surrounding them, they have managed to stay glued to one another for over a decade, the trust and faith they have in each other for only cement.

And in the end, the lies they told themselves, the first time in that dinner, and then again and again over the years, became the reality they live in now. Both of them have convinced their own souls they aren't in love with each other.

The lie turned into the truth, right there rests their tragedy.

They lived that lie, telling it with such a natural ease, they slowly grew into believing it themselves, finding excuses or other reasons to explain the caring behaviour, ogling eyes and other wants they would have had.

Because after all, they are friends who don't touch, but indeed fantasize about the touches.

They aren't jealous, but only bothered by an eventual third person who gets to toy and fuck with the other's body.

They are just… friends.

They are just _peculiar_ friends.

But friends aren't usually afraid to tell they love each other, because the love they share is not ambiguous, there are no hows to ask.

And yet, this alternate reality has started to crack wide open, first when he said it to her, and then when she realised, she could not, not come back to him.

It pains her so much, too much.

She left him because she needed to cut him off, she needed to heal from the disease he had poisoned her blood with.

But what she truly felt was herself dying.

Each time, she entered the firm and had to turn right to Louis' office, her legs wanted to drag her in the opposite direction where she felt like she truly belonged.

Each time she saw him in the lobby, she wanted to run to him, and confess she made a mistake, and that she would be back on his desk if he'd her.

But she never did.

She realised she never left for her, she left for him. She let him space to evolve, that's how selfless she is when it comes to them.

She left for herself, realised it wasn't any solution, only to find out it was for him, and as much as she hated every second away from his shadow, she let him armour himself against her absence.

And when he almost succeeded, she got scared and came back, only to make sure she was still accepted in his private circle.

She's very much aware now, how he holds her in the palm of his hand, she's just a muppet he can toy with, she's at his complete mercy. She is happily bleeding, accepting this fate with all of what she's made of. If she was ever going to suffer, it would be only because of him.

She tries once more to drown her sorrows with the help of margaritas, the need to clear her brain with alcohol being the only reasonable thing to do. She contemplated going home after leaving his office, but it didn't feel right, to go hide in her cave once more.

She didn't want to be alone with her demons, she wanted some kind of company.

She finds it sitting at a bar, nursing what is her fifth drink of the night, lost in her thoughts, when she hears.

"Trying to forget something?"

"Excuse me?" she turns her head towards the owner of this low voice, meeting his very likeable face and twinkly blue eyes.

"I asked you if you're trying to forget anything?" he calmly repeats, landing beside her with his elbows on the vintage oak bar. He's close, she can sense his presence and masculine fragrance, but a gentleman enough to leave a polite distance between their shoulders.

"Yeah…more or less," Donna shrugs, looking back down at the drink she's nursing, soothing the edges with the tip of her finger.

He's not the first guy who's trying to hit on her tonight, she's used to being seduced, and dragged to bed for a good hour of fun.

Some guys have managed their way under her sheets over the years, charming enough and witty enough to catch up with her, she has judged them some kind of worthy to taste her.

Their faces were ghosts to her now, their names long forgotten in her far away memory. They were always a good distraction, a nice way for her to have her fun from time to time. An escape for her mind to stop thinking for two seconds, when even the alcohol she would have drunk couldn't do its job.

So yes, she agreed more than a few times, the idea of a good night of sex never too reluctant for someone loving life like Donna does.

And tonight, the bachelor doesn't seem to be that bad.

"Oh, so it's someone then?" The man guesses _right_. He has a smile on his face when he sees her eyebrows lift, something between proudness and mischief.

"I beg your pardon?" She asks, her voice higher than before, fully turning her head to him and exposing her cracking eyes. She amusingly scoffs, his remark being too personal and too veridic at the same time.

"You've been here all alone all night, rejecting every man who dared speaking to you," he explains looking back at her with his piercing pupils, "And there's only one reason why a beautiful lady like you would come here to drink. _Alone_," he finishes, tilting his head closer to her.

"Are you saying a woman can't have a night of fun on her own every once in a while?" Donna asserts, hating herself for being so damn obvious.

"One can," he assures, "But you've got that look on your face."

He doesn't precise which look, he doesn't need to. They both are very aware of which feeling is stampeded on her face, the actress in her long gone. No mask on tonight.

"Oh, so you've been ogling me now?" Donna sasses still, trying to keep a bit of composure. Her back straight on the stool, vainly trying to reach his high height as he stands next to her, all tall and elegant and bloody attractive.

"You're hard to miss," he moves forward, not really hiding his intentions anymore.

He lands a special gaze on her, she couldn't be able to put a name on the feeling, but it's comforting, and somehow familiar, yet completely knew. But above all, it's _nice_, and _simple_.

She takes a sip, slowly letting the liquid burn her throat, enjoying the warmth before answering, her usual confidence radiating, "I am indeed."

She takes the time to look at him, lets her hazels explore this new face. Salient jaws covered by a three-day-old beard giving him that charming aura, thin and soft lips asking to be touched, an entire ocean living in the small world of his irises, the dark blue calming her hazel fire, and his hair as blond as the wheat, hands wanting to wander through them like a child would run in a field.

He is a debonair guy in his late thirties, with no golden band on his left hand, and does have a gentle grin.

She smiles back at him, a silent invitation to take the seat next to her, and as he does, he hails the bartender for another round of whatever they're drinking tonight. Even on his stool, he maintains this free gap separating them, it's a mix between innocence and cockiness.

"So," the stranger engages again, "Tough heartbreak?"

"You could say that…" Donna contemplates, her head low again. The word seems to fit, her heart aches, even if she's not sure it's for the good reasons, or at least the usual ones.

"He's a fool," he affirms right away, keeping her to get lost in the thoughts she never dares to wander.

"I'm sorry do I know you?" she jokes, perturbed as to why she's so off her game tonight. Usually she's the one having all the answers, but her compass isn't working. And she goddamn knows why, and she's hating it.

"Oh, I doubt it," he jibes, "I'm hard to forget." Not a single ounce of doubt as he speaks, neither in his behaviour.

"You're a stalker, _and cocky_," Donna summarizes, more and more intrigued by this gentleman as the seconds pass.

"A cocky stalker," he parrots the word, "Yeah, it defines me well," he complies in giggles, bringing Donna into the laughter too, a happy bound being created by their free eyes, and a sort of easiness.

The giggles fade, and he finally introduces himself, presenting his hand for her to shake, "I'm Robin Hunt."

She does take it, the hand and the company, "Donna Paulsen."

The hand shake is all but formal, their fingers brushing, pads discovering a new touch, a new skin and a new enthusiasm. They fit great together, not perfect, but good enough to notice the match.

"Let me wonder, Robin," Donna engages again, once they're both well seated, "What made you think you had a chance with me?" Donna ventures, "besides, your obvious confidence."

"Simple question," Robin states matter-of-factly, "I'm a gambler," he whispers, the answer resonating with a bitter taste in her ears, "I think you're worth taking a shot."

And with just that he gave her more in five minutes than Harvey did in a decade. It's not entirely true, but she can't help the shortcut.

"You also think you're better than all the douches who offered me a drink."

"I do." He sips on his scotch, taking time to irradiate her with his scent. "And because I'm still sitting here, it means you do too."

She likes that. She likes that very much.

"You'd better pay me a margarita then," she seductively proposes, voice all low and growling.

.

.

They sit, talk, laugh and drink happily at the bar for most of the evening, losing the numbers of tumblers they empty as well as any notion of time.

Around what might be their sixth or seventh together for the evening, they move to a corner, the need for more intimacy and confidentiality gaining their risky limbs.

The behaviour easy, the talking being all but heavy, his calm aura has reached her inner centre and it makes her feel pretty damn great about herself.

He's clear on what he wants, interesting and a little dare-devil. She enjoys the personality the mixture creates.

They cover all subjects, going from jobs to childhood, giggling at their dysfunctional families and using the veil of metaphors to cover their broken hearts.

He talks about his tumultuous relationship with his college girlfriend, how he was too shy to tell her she was it for him, and the way she dumped him because he didn't give as much as he received.

She talks about her failed relationships, avoiding the murderer, but not drying up on her long-time boss, turning friend and one-time lover, her rule and how blurry it can all get.

No judgment, just a profound understanding and a lot of empathy bringing them closer by the minutes.

Robin is charming, dashing, witty and all she could love. Really, he's a good match, a great one.

But she has that lost sparkle in her eyes all evening, silently comparing him to another one of a kind man.

She can't help it, her brain does it before she even thinks of doing it. It's like a reflex of some sorts, something she got used to do and can't help but summum every time she meets a great and loveable stranger.

More so, she vainly attempts to find issues, defaults and excuses that would be receivable for this not to work in any way.

And it works.

He's some kind of perfect for her, but not the right kind. Not the fitting one.

She may be laughing, and happily enjoying the company, but deep down she knows at some point, she will back down because he's not near to be the one her flesh and blood claim for.

When she smiles at him, she smiles with her lips and eyes, but her heart aches.

When she laughs, the sound is genuine and light, but her lungs don't go out of air like it normally should.

When she looks at him, she has respect and fondness filling her eyes, but no sparks capable of shaming the sun can be seen.

And the more he talks, the more she realises she doesn't want him to suffer because of her festered heart.

Been there, done that.

"Where have you gone, Donna?" Robins reaches her hand, well aware she lost the course of the conversation.

"I'm sorry," she apologised, leaving her hand there, "What were you saying?"

"You were thinking about him, your boss, weren't you?" He doesn't let her escape, purposely avoiding her question.

She lets her head and shoulder drop, in defeat, taken with the hand in the cookie jar.

"I was yes," she confesses, her cheeks reddening.

"What happened?" he asks, not a second offended by her thoughts.

"It's… _complicated_," she stumbles on the words, trying to find the best definition for him.

"Yeah… I got that part," he jokes, a faint smile tugging his lips.

"It's like I…"

"Can't get him out of your head? He reigns your life without even knowing it. You wake up thinking about him and go to sleep wishing he was here. You breath him like he is some kind of oxygen and hate how you can't control your heartbeat when he enters you vision?" Robin fills for her.

"Yes!" It's a cry from the heart, like she finally has found someone who understands how she feels, "He's like a poison who has smouldered every aspect of my life and I wish I could forget him for a minute," she sighs.

"Is that why you have this rule? To keep him at bay? To keep you from falling?" Robin investigates, really trying to sort out this entangled partnership.

"Maybe? I don't know anymore…" Donna glooms, tired by the fights and alcohol.

"If you put that rule out because you were afraid to fall, it kinda means that you already did," he declares the obvious. "Do you want him to break it?"

"I mean, he's a rule-breaker. I don't know… He never made a move to crush that one. If he really does want me, shouldn't he already have broken it? Shouldn't he have thrown it off the window and act on his feelings for me?"

"Donna, he respects you too much for that," Robin rationalises, "You don't overstep something as huge as this when the person who instituted it means the world to you. If you want to keep her around, you comply and play by it as much as it hurts."

"Are you saying it's my fault?" she inquired, more dazzled than ever.

"I'm saying, have you ever let him the space to break it? Have you ever given him a reason to risk you in that way?" Robin questions back.

She relieves the last decade in the flash of a second, realising she always had that special barrier for him, keeping him close but never enough at the same time. The perfect distance for ache and pain. The blurry distance of need and want.

"I guess not…" she states, shocked by her own word.

"Donna, take one piece of advice from my experience. Let him know how you feel," his heart on the table, he squeezes her head to lock his eyes with hers, "You owe it. To yourself, to you heart, to your relationship. But most of all you owe it to him."

"But—"

"No buts," he cuts her before she can utter any more words, or excuses, "Just the truth, and the end of a decade of aching hearts. Trust me," he whispers.

She lets his little speech sinks, before asking one last burning interrogation, "Do you? Regret never saying to her how much she means to you?"

"I regret never saying how much she mattered to me."

Water fills her eyes, but she won't let one more drop falls on her cheeks, they already have seen to many oceans flow out on them.

"It's worth it Donna," Robin secures her, "Love is worth it. Regrets aren't."

.

.

They left the bar quick after that, both agreeing it was better not to go further with whatever they started that night.

He did propose her a nightstand, a simple night of orgasms to empty their heavy heads, but she declined, the need to sort it all out present in her brain, engraved in her mind.

She smiled as he disappeared in a taxi, thanking the hazard of meetings for this impromptu discussion, this night bringing her way more than what she expected in the beginning.

And so, she walks.

She walks and walks and keep on walking, head low and not paying attention as to where her feet are leading her. Her heels are hurting her, and her hands start to turn purple in the cold air of New York City, but she keeps on walking, swallowing the tar.

She doesn't want to think about anything, she wants her head to be filled with void and peace, empty of all thoughts and images, no distractions.

She left the bar dizzy and lost, but the words Robin spoke keep hitting replay in her mind, she can still hear his voice telling her to make a move, to open up the door of possibilities.

She never saw it under this angle, the one where she's the closed side to emotions and feelings talks. And perhaps it makes sense.

She set up a rule she wished he'd broke. He never did because he places her higher than his bettor envies.

In a way, she's special.

Special enough to be an exception in Harvey's way of functioning. Special enough to be too much worth to risk anything.

Special enough to be the one he listens to, the one he seeks comfort from and the one he can't get live without.

And _Oh, fuck it._

Is it fate twisting with her, or just sending her a framing message, she doesn't know.

But she is well indeed in front of his building, freezing cold and with too much fear controlling her actions.

She of course had to end up here, all of places in the entire apple city.

And well, what does she have to lose?

.

.

"I meant you."

"Donna what are you doing here?" Harvey asks, bewildered and freezing at the sight of his secretary on his doorstep so late at night.

"I'm here to tell you I figured it out. All of it."

"Are you drunk?"

"Maybe a bit yes," she says, "But it's not the point Harvey. The point is," she flusters, her hands helping her aggravating her words, "The point is, I want more with you."

Her eyes are gleamy and filled with fear, but she has that determined tone in her voice keeping Harvey from speaking, letting her space to empty whatever bag she has clearly been caring for too long.

"But Harvey I can't keep the pretence going on for another minute, I won't bear it."

He gulps at her words, having emptied a few tumblers himself this night. He stammers, his jaw almost dropping on the floor.

"What are you saying Donna?"

Her shoulders drop, alongside with the barriers she has built around her heart, the slight hope in his voice for only key to open the Pandora box of their locked away truths.

And the sentence falls.

"I'm saying I love you, Harvey. I'm saying I'm in love with you," Donna speaks, crashing every lies she ever told with one simple sentence, and God she's fucking scared but the burden she had been carrying is finally gone from her shoulders, and she can live again.

She eyes his reaction, but Harvey's voiceless, his lungs crying for some air, when he clearly struggles to breath properly. A knot in the throat, he waits for her to continue.

"I'm saying that I'm tired to pretend I don't feel anything, when in truth I feel everything. I'm saying I've been loving you from day one, and I could never fall out of love for you, ever. And trust me I tried, I tried so hard not to like too much your voice calling my name, I tried to ignore the fire you lighten on my skin when you touch me, or the way my stomach is turned upside down by the gazes you give me."

The floods are wide open, Donna couldn't be able to stop if she tried, she needs him to know more than she needs to breath.

"But Harvey, the thing is, I can't cut you out of me. And even if I could, I'm not sure I would want to."

Donna breaths in a bit, soothing her crying lungs, before ending, "Maybe I'm too late for this, maybe you don't feel the same way, and it's okay, but I don't want to lie to the most important person in my life, so here I am."

"I do," Harvey speaks up, her doubts towards the way he feels about her bringing him among the living.

He's dazzled to say the least by the confession Donna just made, almost sure this is all a dream and he's going to wake up all alone and hangovered once more.

But she's no hallucination, she's well indeed on his doorstep uttering words he lost hope into hearing out loud one day, and the fact she is so unsure is killing him.

"You…you do?" That wasn't at all the answer she thought to have from him. She hoped and prayed for it, but she was more prepared to face an emotionless block.

"I do Donna, of course I am in love with you."

A stupid loving smile is replacing her anguish expression all of a sudden, his words healing her bleeding wounds, calming her inner turmoil. Neither of them moves just yet, still too afraid to surrender their confession to reality with touches.

Harvey then frowns, the reason of him holding back for so long suddenly hitting his brain.

"But, your rule?"

"Bullshit, that's' what it is."

He scoffs at her immediate response, the confidence in her tone. Although, he's well aware she's high on alcohol, and the last thing he wants is for her to wake up tomorrow thinking of it like it is yet another mistake.

"Donna I need to know…" his voice crackling, unsure, "Do you want this? Us? For good? Forever?"

_Forever._

_How could she ever want him in other way?_

"Yes. I do want us, Harvey."

It's enough reassurance for him.

He grins like the idiot in love he is, approaching her freely, without carrying any burden anymore.

He crashes his lips on her, her body freezing at the contact, arms immediately around his neck, fingers running through his mane. He's sucking on her top lip, and it's enough for her to kiss him back with all she has, her mouth moving against his, seeking for more contact. He willingly opens his own, allowing the access for their tongues to dance with each other.

It feels so good to taste him again, she whines at the feeling, enjoying his adventurous hands roaming all over her body while hers are stuck around his head.

Their bodies fusing, he runs a hand along her ribs, resting at the side of her breast, earning him a moan, until his fingers finish their course in her hair and god he can't get enough of her already.

She pushes him into his condo with all her body, gluing their hips as she feels his growing hardiness against her stomach, turning her on even more. They're a pair of entangled limbs, starting to discharge the other of their clothes.

There are too much layers separating their heats, both of them suffocating, not sure as why air is missing from their lungs.

Her coat lands on his floor first, still in the hallway, as Harvey walks with her further near the kitchen. She digs her nails into his back, then on his side to land on his chest, fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt. He has his lips on her neck, sucking on her pulse point and combined with his hot breath on her skin, she almost turns into jello right then and there.

She finally manages to take the piece of clothing off of him, and the small gesture allows a small wind of his perfume to invade her nostrils. She breaths him in, her hands caressing his muscular biceps, and she suddenly wonders why she never spoke sooner.

He has his hands all over her, she's losing her goddamn mind, rotating kisses on her mouth, jaw and neck, gently biting at the column of her throat. He's gonna leave her a mark if he continues and she couldn't care less.

Soon enough he finds the zipper of her dress, getting her rid of the offending material in the matter of seconds, leaving her in matching black lingerie.

He _has_ to take a step back; he _has_ to worship her with his own eyes. She whines at the loss of contact, reluctantly letting him get away for a minute, and her impatience makes him giggle.

She looks like an angel, a Renaissance art he could never get tired of it makes his dick twitches in his pants, reminding him the lack of space. He's soon back on her again, tasting every freckle he can see, licking her and drinking her like she's the Fountain of Youth. He needs to back her against a surface, against something, anything. Harvey silently curses the lack of walls in his penthouse, when Donna squeezes his butt cheeks and _fuck it woman_, he's never gonna make it to the bedroom, mere inches away.

Continuing their trip further and further, he blindly guides her against the pillar, near the kitchen counter, pressing her against the cold surface, her back landing on the cement tower with a frenzied sound.

Donna utters a groan from pleasure at the feeling, her back arching, hips meeting hips, excitement at its finest.

Harvey smirks at the sound, hands on her waist and forehead against forehead, he has mischief written all over his face where all he can read on hers is the hurricane of desire. She has this radiating glow of thirst, all for him, and he would be lying if he said he isn't proud to be the source of such craving.

Harvey closes the gap between their mouths once again, claiming her lips as his, sucking and licking with his own, the routine they're dancing fogging their brains with lust. His hands going from her waist to her back, he strongly caresses her freckled back, sensing the shivers she's having, until he unhooks her bra, freeing her painful nipples. Soon, he's teasing her more when he slowly peels it off of her shoulder with light touches.

The bra meets the floor, replaced by his skilled hands massaging her, the ministrations hardening them even more if that's even possible. Her whines are an encouragement, and he parts her legs with his thigh, starting to release the growing need of friction in her lower body.

They are literally glued together, no air resting between the two frames, Donna totally helpless against the stoned pillar. She couldn't escape if she tried, not that she wants to.

His hands on her breasts are soon join by his lips, leaving her skin all wet from her jaw to her left nipple, as he gracefully takes it in his mouth to suck, taking good care of it with his tongue.

"Fuck…" Donna mutters, her head falling back, only supported by the tower behind her.

Harvey hums in response, the vibrations it's causing having an exciting effect on his woman.

Lips walking wild on her skin he lets go of her nipple to make his way down, hands following, toying with the straps on her panties. Feather kisses on her inner thigh, he boldly passes a hand between her legs, the material all soaked by her juice.

"God Donna," he growls, his voice hoarse by arousal.

Not teasing her more, he puts the panties down her milky legs, tossing it away with Donna's help. She doesn't have the time to be fully naked than his hands are already dressing her, covering every strategic places, breasts, butt, thighs and calves. He's on his knees, well grounded, when he lifts Donna's left leg to rest on his shoulder, giving him a perfect view of what he's seeking for. He smiles in anticipation, his buds craving for her sour taste.

He looks back at her, eyes locked as she bites her bottom lip to avoid panting, daring him to fulfil his wish. He has never seen her more beautiful as she is now, hair all messed up, lipstick long gone. She looks wild and turned on and his dick hardens in appreciation.

He makes sure she's stable, her only right leg for support, maintaining her with his right hand on her waist, as his other one sends fire on her left thigh. Staring back at her wet folds, he licks his lips, and then encounters her own with one big slick, spreading her juice everywhere.

Donna cries at the contact, a hand immediately finding the back of his head. He hasn't done anything yet, but she's damn sure she could have come just like that.

Harvey reiterates his moves, this time stopping at her clit, rolling it with his tongue and soon sucking on it. He pays extra attention to her bundle of nerves, the hand on her waist soon finding one nipple to apply the same sentence with his fingers, the combo of it all causing Donna to moan and scream and her back arches with pleasure, she almost loses her balance.

She's somehow overwhelmed with pleasure because _damn this man and his tongue._

"Harvey…" she utters between two cries. It's a plea and a command all wrapped up in one, but he's death at her demand. She feels too amazing against his mouth, he could never let go of her.

She feels the sensation building up, her left leg trembling on his shoulder, and he surely takes the hint too, for it his tongue is joined by his fingers grazing her entrance. One, two seconds and he slides two of them inside, the sudden intrusion giving her some relief, but he's soon pumping in and out, turning them in the process to hit all the good places, and it's too much all for her to take.

Her lungs and brain lack for air, she's coming hard against the pillar, crying his name while her hand in his hair keeps his lips on hers, her orgasm washing over her like a storm in the middle of an ocean. Harvey helps riding it smoothly, slowly calming the rock tempo he had mere moments ago, her left leg going down from his shoulder for Donna to regain some composure.

He travels back up, his famous grin plastered on his face, she doesn't have any other choice than kissing it off of him, tasting herself in the process. She has just landed from her high but the flavour is enough for her to take the reins, her hands unbuckling his belt.

Their lips still fused, Harvey pouts at the loss of contact when Donna lower herself before him, definitely getting him out of his pants, freeing his prominent erection.

She swallows at the sight of it, exactly how she remembers his cock to be, the glorious length all rise up against his stomach, she can't help but smirk.

His dick all hard, all veined up and begging for her attention, she wonders how he managed to keep his calm and take his time to make her cum with his mouth first. She's impressed by such self-control coming from Harvey, the one she has in her souvenirs being less patient and much more impulsive. She can't say she dislike this little upgrade.

"Enjoying the view?" he asks her, impatience getting the better of him.

"Yes," she replies, not hiding nor reddening at the confession.

Taking him in her hand, she pumps him teasingly, spreading the precum with her thumb, the tip so sensible she feels him twitch. He makes a guttural grown at the move, and she feels her own pleasure forming too at the sound.

Getting her tongue out, she licks him from base to tip, closing her mouth around it only to taking him in.

"Oh _fuck_!" Harvey curses, holding on to the pillar before him to stay up.

She has a pattern, and it's driving him wild. Her mouth around his head, her tongue does all the work while she pumps with her hand, to then taking him fully. It's slow at first, but goes faster and faster, keeping the same moves. Her mouth is wrapped all around, and Harvey has to close his eyes if he doesn't want to lose his mind. Maybe he already has, but she so skilled, she's giving him an out of this world attention.

She's kneeling before him, his noble cock inside of her wet and hot mouth, his body hovering over her like a God, and yet she holds all the power at this very instant. It's too much for him, he knows he won't last long if she keeps doing that with this look on her face.

Her hands on his ass, she squeezes him one last time, before he motions for her to get up, pressing her hot body against the cold stone.

She takes his head in her hands, kissing him frenziedly, his hips moving against his own accord, she lifts her right leg, leg he rapidly takes to place above his waist, her heel digging in the back of his thigh.

With the added inches she's still wearing, they're at the perfect height for him to enter her without any difficulties. He teases her a bit, the tip of his cock rubbing against her folds before plunging all the way in. She's wide open, panting and her heart missing a bit at the foreign yet very welcomed intrusion.

They release twin sighs at the overwhelming feeling, finally being reunited in the most meaningful of ways after such a long time. This is the final explosion of over a decade of empty dreams and broken fantasies, emotions are hitting both of their heart like a thunder of lighting.

She's so tight, and wet and welcoming, Harvey swears his heart is gonna explode, feeling it beating in his temple, as Donna keeps a scream from going out by biting his shoulder, holding on both of them with such fury she's leaving crescent marks.

This little moment suspended in time when they realise there is definitely no coming back gives Donna time to adjust to his length in her, still dazzled by the sensation of his dick engulfed in her.

She nods, and Harvey starts to pump, slowly at first, taking the time to savour this moment, before she starts to move her hips over her own accord, but he takes the hint, they both miss some friction. He rocks then, rhythm expanding. He slams again and again and again, the sloppy sounds of his flesh meeting hers combined with their moans creating a perfect opera making the silence go away in his condo.

They are both not going to last much longer, their orgasms forming sooner than what they'd like.

He feels her losing her breath, feels her frenetic expiration in his neck, sending shivers down his spine. He has the head behind a curtain of red, the scent of her hair tilting his nostrils and it's all too much, he whispers in her ear his gonna come, she nods, she's close too.

Harvey takes on of her hand in his, pinning it above her head while intertwining their fingers, sliding is tongue inside her mouth at the same time. She sucks it, toying with it with her own, and he growls, slamming harder and farther inside her.

One hand leaves his shoulder to her bundle of nerves rubbing it to make her see the galaxy and her walls clench. She comes all over his cock and the warmth it creates sends Harvey directly in heaven right behind her. She feels him empty himself, and that's the best feeling she has ever experience, helping her soothing her high.

Out of breath, all stinky and still quite high from the mind-blowing orgasm they just had, it takes them a few minutes to process it all.

The hurt.

The alcohol.

The talk.

The sex.

_Them_.

They are still fused by the lips when Harvey gently withdraws from Donna, whining at the lost, immediately missing him.

Not joined anymore but still extremely close, Donna brings both her hands on his scalp, brushing his hair as she feels his hands on her waist once again, fingers drawing circles on her heated flesh.

Harvey breaks the sloppy kiss, only parting for air, but not too far away, maintaining the contact with his forehead on hers.

He has never seen her smile wider than she is now, a genuine content aura radiating from her hazels, and he's certain he's in the same euphoric state.

"Well, that was…" Donna speaks low, her voice raucous from the sex.

"Interesting?" Harvey tries.

"I was going for mind-blowing, but yeah I guess that works too," she laughs, her thumb caressing his cheek.

He's giving her one of those looks, screaming the love and admiration no word could ever do justice to and she just has to kiss him, bringing her lips to his because now she's free to do so.

"I do love you, Donna," he confesses, just above a whisper on her lips.

She smiles, "I know. I love you too."

"Good."

"Good."

They kiss again, a way to seal the silent deal of their love, it's languid and slow. They are savouring the taste of their feelings on the other's lips.

"So, what now?" Donna asks.

"Now," Harvey starts, taking her hand in his, "I'm gonna take my girlfriend to bed."

_Girlfriend_.

Yeah, they are definitely the peculiar type.

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**Hope you liked that OS, please leave me a review :) **


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